Secrets in the Outfield

I'd become a professional at this point. Being a spy, I mean. Not the cool kind with gadgets — just the lonely teenager hiding behind the bleachers kind.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, I'd perch on the concrete ledge near the **water** fountain, watching baseball practice through the chain-link fence like some kind of obsessed creeper. But it wasn't like that. Not really.

Jordan was out there on the pitcher's mound, laughing with his teammates, his cleats digging into the dirt like he owned the world. We used to be best friends, back when we were twelve and the biggest problem we had was deciding which video game to play. Then freshman year happened, and suddenly I was the weird quiet kid and he was the **baseball** star with the popular crowd and the girlfriend who always wore too much perfume.

The worst part? I couldn't even be properly mad about it. Jordan was still genuinely nice. He'd say hey to me in the hallways like nothing had changed, which somehow made everything hurt more.

That day, I'd brought an old stuffed **bear** I'd found while cleaning my closet — this ridiculous brown thing named Barnaby I hadn't touched since I was seven. Don't ask why. Sometimes your brain just does things when you're fifteen and feel like your whole life is slipping away from you.

Jordan spotted me. Of course he did.

He jogged over, wiping sweat from his forehead, and that's when the fountain chose that exact moment to spray **water** everywhere, soaking his jersey. We both cracked up. Just like that, we were twelve again.

"Barnaby?" he asked, nodding at the stuffed animal tucked under my arm like some kind of emotional support hostage situation.

"Don't judge."

"Never." He grinned. "Hey, you doing anything Friday? My parents are out of town, thought maybe we could —"

"Spit it out, Jordan."

He laughed, that real laugh I'd missed. "Okay. I was thinking maybe you could come over? Like old times? I've got this new game —"

"Yeah." I felt something in my chest loosen, that heavy weight I'd been carrying around for months suddenly feeling lighter. "Yeah, I'd like that."

Sometimes things don't go back to how they were. But sometimes, just sometimes, they find a way to be okay anyway.